Rattled, стр. 2
I can’t really blame her. I was a fucking dick to her back then. I hated her for what she’d done and a part of me still holds a lot of resentment for her actions. But I have to set it all aside. Make it right, at least until the tat is done. My future depends on it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” she yells.
I take a deep breath. “Listen, I was seventeen. I had a chip on my shoulder. I was an ass and I treated you like shit.”
“You got that right.”
“It was also a long time ago.”
“Not that long.” She snorts and then narrows her eyes on me. “And I’m supposed to believe you’ve changed? That you’re no longer a dickwad?”
I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure I can still be that, but not in here. Not with you, and never, ever when I’m doing a tat.”
“I still don’t want you touching me.” She takes a step back and I rush forward.
“Listen, I swear that it will be the best tat you’ve ever had. It will be perfect and exactly what you want. Please, don’t walk out. You won’t get another artist and I’ll get booted.”
She frowns, biting her bottom lip. “I can’t just switch with someone? Others are waiting in the room. I’ll just ask one of them to trade.”
“If I lose a customer, I’m out.”
“I can explain—”
“It won’t matter.” I step closer. “Please, Kelsey, I need this. It’s a chance for a break and I could really use one.”
Her brown eyes study me as she bites her bottom lip again. It seems like forever before she says anything. “Do you promise not to give me any shit for what I want, or why?”
I hold up my hands like I’m surrendering. “I swear I won’t.”
“I mean it, because you aren’t going to like what I want, and I’ll be damned if I have to listen to your opinions on the matter again.”
My gut tightens. What the hell does she want? We’ve only disagreed once, when I yelled at her for being a selfish stupid bitch. We never talked again after that. Just glares in classrooms and on campus. Thankfully, we didn’t have that many classes together because I was a year older and our art concentration was different. “I swear. I have no opinions or thoughts in this room except for what the customer wants. There are some things I’m morally against, but it isn’t my skin.”
“Would you turn someone away if they wanted something you are morally against?”
“I have twice before.”
“Then I might as well head for the door now because you’ve made your opinions of my choices very clear.”
“Wait!” I have to stop her before she’s gone. “I’m sure whatever you want doesn’t come close to my moral compass code.”
She snorts. “Really? I’m not so sure.”
“Unless you want a swastika, I’m sure there is nothing you can suggest that I’d find offensive.”
She turns, a look of disgust on her face. “God no! Do people really get those?”
I shrug. “I’ve seen them. I just don’t do them.”
She tilts her head and studies me. “Anything else on your list I should know about?”
“Nope, that’s pretty much it—or any hate symbol, for that matter.”
She’s nodding, studying me, back to biting her bottom lip. “Are you any good?”
“Would I be here if I wasn’t?” I grin.
She doesn’t return it. “Your ego has never been in question. Are you any good? Because this is important.”
I’m not going to win her over with apologies. “I am good. One of the best. And trust me, this is just as important to me.”
Again she studies me, and it’s almost like I can see her battling with a decision behind those dark brown eyes. Slowly she holds the envelope out to me. “You better not fuck it up, and you better not give me any shit.”
I assume there’s a picture of whatever she wants on her body in the envelope. I reach out for it. Her hands are shaking and if I’m honest, so are mine. Seeing her for the first time since high school, and remembering how much I resented her and made her life hell, has me unsettled. I’m afraid karma is about to bite me on the ass.
She lets go before I can grab the envelope and it falls to the ground. A small pink rattle rolls out onto the floor.
She may be anxious about all this, but seeing what just came out of that envelope has me a bit rattled too.
The old anger at what she did surges, but I force it away. She’s a client. I won’t judge her for her decisions or actions. I may have then, but I won’t today. Not in this room. And not when I have so much to lose.
When the tat is done, and I’ve made the show, then I can go back to resenting Kelsey Fry once again.
I reach down and grab the rattle before Alex has a chance to. It’s the only item I have left. Or ever had, for that matter. I had swiped it from her bassinette, placed there by her new parents, before they took her away. And I don’t want him touching it.
Clutching it tightly in my hand, I stand up and wait for his hateful words, but they don’t come.
I can’t believe that the artist I’ve been assigned is Alexander Dosek, better known in my mind as Alexander Douche. The bane of my existence at Baxter Academy. All high-and-mighty. Judging me because of a decision I made that didn’t affect him in the least. Reminding me daily, just by a look, that he considered me the lowest form of scum.
Asshole! What the hell did he know about my life and circumstances? How could he possibly understand the decisions I had to make and how they’ve